The Right Thing
by Ismira Daugene
Summary: A dramione fic... 7 years after the war, Hermione and Ron are getting a divorce.  In steps Draco Malfoy who is now a social worker and simply can't walk away from Hermione's pain.  But has he really changed?  And will Hermione believe it if he has?
1. Ch Ch Ch Changes!

**The Right Thing**

**by: Ismira Daug****é****ne**

_**Harry Potter**_** (c) J.K. Rowling**

**I own nothing… If I did, do you really think I'd be publishing it on here?**

****Warning: This fic has been rated M for language and adult situations later in the story. ****

**Chapter 1: Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes!**

_ Did I do the right thing?_ Hermione Granger asked herself as she sat at the bar of The Leaky Cauldron. Her bushy brown hair was pulled back into a braid that rested on her pale green long-sleeve v-neck with a blouse underneath. She rested her forehead in one hand closing her eyes for a moment. "Would you like another?" Tom the bartender asked.

Hermione looked up at him then down at the empty glass before her. She nodded thinking, _what the hell… I've already had three_. "One dirty martini coming up," Tom grabbed her glass and wandered down to the other end of the bar.

He came back a moment later with a fresh glass filled with gin, dry vermouth, and olives. Hermione's fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass and her other hand played with the toothpick and olive. Removing the olive, she chugged down the martini in one go. "That's not very healthy you know," a masculine voice said from her left.

"Do I look like I give a damn?" Hermione retorted not looking up.

"No, not really. You wanna talk about it?"

"Do I want to talk about what?"

"The reason you've downed four martinis in the last hour."

"Why would I want to tell a stranger…" Hermione broke off as she looked up to see a familiar pair of grey eyes behind platinum blond bangs looking at her.

"We're not exactly strangers," Draco Malfoy said folding his hands on the bar.

Hermione frowned, "Why would I want to tell _you_ about my problems?"

"Because you have no one else to tell," he said not breaking eye contact with her.

"Why would you think that?"

"Why else would you be here at a bar, by yourself, if you didn't have someone to go to with your problems?" he answered her question with a question.

Hermione's frown deepened. "What are you doing Draco?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you talking to me?"

"You look like you need someone to talk to," he shrugged.  
>"Yeah, but considering our history, why are you talking to me?"<p>

"Hermione, it's been seven years since the end of the war. I've had some time to think about things and believe it or not, I realize how much of an asshole I was in school. Kids can be cruel and I was. It doesn't mean I can't change."

Hermione ducked her head, embarrassed that she hadn't considered he might have changed. "I'm sorry, I'm just a little… "

"Drunk?" he supplied helpfully.

"Besides that! I just broke up with Ron."

"What? You finally dumped the Weasel?"

Hermione glared at him. "Sorry! It appears cruelty follows us into adulthood as well," Draco said looking down at his hands. "So why did you break up? If you don't mind me asking."

Hermione looked down at her empty glass. It seemed Draco had changed for the better. The fact that he would apologize to her was something indeed. "We had the same fight we've been having for a long time. This time had a different outcome," Hermione paused. "He's just so stubborn! He refuses to believe that he could ever be wrong!"

"It's a common trait in the male half of the species," Draco admitted smirking slightly.

"Well, I just couldn't stand it anymore. I told him that if he wasn't even going to consider my side of things, then he could say goodbye and I wasn't going to come back."

"So…"  
>Hermione suddenly burst into tears. "He – he just glared at me and said goodbye. Then he turned and walked out of the room," Hermione was clutching herself tightly and gasping for breath between racking sobs.<p>

Draco, unsure of how to comfort her, put a hesitant hand on her shoulder. Hermione trembled with each shuddering breath. "I'm sorry, I just… it just happened a few days ago."

"What about Potter? You, him, and the little Weaslette were always bosom buddies."

"Harry and Ginny are on holiday out of country." Hermione explained, ignoring the jibe at the youngest Weasley.

"Oh… well, do you have a place to stay for the night?"

"Yes, I rented a room here at The Leaky Cauldron."

"Let me walk you to your room. I think a good night's sleep would help you immensely," Draco said standing and leaving some sickles on the counter to cover her tab.

He pulled on Hermione's arm and she allowed him to steer her up the stairs to the rooms for rent. "Which one's yours?"

"D4."

Draco led her to room D4 then pulled back. "Here you are."

Hermione sniffled, "Thanks."

Draco's hand went to the back of his neck. "I'm staying in C2 for the week. Business in town. If you… umm… if you need someone to talk to."

"Thanks Draco, I'll call if I need you," Hermione muttered through her tear streaked face then opened the door to her room and went inside.

Draco let out a breath of air he hadn't realized he'd held in and dropped his hand to his side. _Maybe I need my head checked_, he thought to himself. He hadn't meant to talk to Granger at all, but after seeing her sitting alone gulping down martini after martini, he couldn't help himself. The brunette just looked so depressed.

Draco started walking to his room. He hadn't been lying when he'd said he'd had business in town. He was checking up on past patients in the city. After the war, he'd had a hard time trying to get back into society. Being the son of a Death Eater and being labeled a Death Eater himself didn't help. The Ministry had held an outreach program to people like him. After attending sessions for a year and a half, he'd realized that it wasn't just people like him who needed help. There were hundreds of survivors who were traumatized and just needed someone to talk to. Draco learned that he was quite good at listening.

As part of the Ministry Outreach Program, he spent two years helping victims of the war, listening to their stories, helping rebuild homes, and helping to rebuild confidence. After he'd graduated from the program, Draco decided he liked helping people. He became a professional councilor and listened to people who just needed someone to talk to. He gave advice and helped people to move on with their lives. Seven years of working with people in pain, both emotional and physical, had taught Draco to spot the ones who really needed his help. Hermione had fit the bill tonight and he hadn't been able to stop himself from trying to talk to her.

Draco reached his room just then and entered it, thinking about how to help Granger. She was going to need more than a few martinis and a short talk with an old school nemesis. He scoffed at the pronoun he'd used for himself. Nemesis was a bit dramatic, but considering how he'd treated her back in school, the word did work. She wouldn't want his help, and would be loath to admit it, but she needed it. It was apparent that he'd just picked up a new client whether he wanted her or not. His conscience wouldn't allow him to just let her go.

The blond man shook his head as he loosened his tie and prepared to retire for the night. Tomorrow would be an interesting day.

**o O o O o O o**

Hermione woke the next morning with a splitting headache. Words could not describe the pain that was shooting through her head. Excruciating might have been close for any normal headache, but for this monster of a hangover headache, excruciating sounded like a fun way to spend the day. She groaned and buried her face in the pillow, not entirely sure if she was trying to suffocate herself or simply block out the light filtering in the grimy window. Either way, she hoped it brought some relief.

Her wish did not come true though; in fact the opposite happened and her headache suddenly worsened due to an extremely happy voice calling out, "Good Morning!"

She wondered if there was anyway to Avada Kedarva an attitude. Hell, Avada Kedarva'ing her headache would probably be more beneficial, but she was pretty sure that wasn't possible. Instead she rolled to her side and squinted to see who had managed to get in her room. To her surprise, the face was familiar although not necessarily welcome. "What the fuck do you want, Malfoy?" she muttered, dropping back down into the pillow, a small part of her mind remembering that he'd helped her to her room the previous night.

"I figured you'd most likely have one hell of a hangover this morning and I thought to myself, 'Self, we should help her out with that'."

"Well you can just take both of you and get the hell out of my room," she grumbled.

"Mmm… no."

"What do you mean no? This is my room! Last I checked, I was paying for it, not you! Besides, how did you even get in?" She was now facing him again as he set a tray bearing morning tea service onto a table.

"Alohomora?" he replied as though this should be obvious.

"Are you kidding me? These doors unlock with a simple alohomora charm?"

He chuckled slightly as he poured tea into one of the cups. "No, the door was unlocked actually. You must not have locked it before going to sleep last night."

Hermione grunted slightly as she sat up, her back leaning against the headboard. "Last night…" she muttered.

"Yes, you know… the bit where I helped you up the stairs and to your door?"

"I remember!" she snapped.

"Well I wasn't sure, you see. You had been drinking quite a lot last night. How do you take your tea?"

"Sugar, no cream."

He put a sugar cube into her cup and handed it to her on a saucer along with a stirring spoon. She snatched it away from him, the tea spilling over the sides of the cup a little. The blond man prepared a cup for himself and sat himself down in the chair next to the table, stirring his tea. Hermione squinted her eyes at him, examining him from head to toe while his head was down concentrating on his tea. He wore business attire, a nice set of charcoal pants, a light blue and white striped dress shirt, a matching charcoal vest, and a navy blue tie tucked into the vest. One lean leg was crossed over the other and she could see he had plain black shoes, although they were dull and in desperate need of a good polishing. Despite the meticulousness with which he prepared the rest of his attire, including his carefully combed hair, his shoes told a different story. Perhaps he had been very busy recently. Of course his shoe appearance in combination with the fact that he was staying in the Leaky Cauldron for the week said that he was not a man of means anymore. It appeared he had joined the working class.

Hermione's eyes darted up to his face to see that he was smiling at her. She blushed and quickly took a drink of tea to cover it up. After she'd felt the blush recede a little, she dared to look back up at him again. "Why did you bring my tea? I ordered a morning service from the kitchen, but how did you get a hold of it?" this seemed like a logical place to start the questions that were starting to pile up in her brain.

Draco took a sip of tea before answering. "My own morning service arrived first and I inquired as to whether you had ordered a tray. I offered to take your service to your room for the maid," he shrugged. "Besides, it's always nice to have company for tea, wouldn't you agree?"

Hermione glared at him over the edge of her teacup. "Do you really want me to answer that considering the headache I'm currently sporting and the residual feelings I have for you from school?"

He grimaced slightly, "No, I suppose not."

Silence filled the room for a while as they both sipped at their tea. Hermione fidgeted uncomfortably under the duvet. She'd only managed to slip out of her jeans and shoes last night before falling into bed and she was currently feeling the effects of the tea and the commode was calling. She glanced up at Draco again, but he didn't look to be leaving anytime soon. In fact, he'd just poured himself another cup of tea. She sighed and placed her own saucer on the bedside table. "Would you mind leaving?" she asked, trying to be civil.

Draco looked up at her. "Whatever for? I thought we were getting on quite well."

Hermione's mouth pursed and her eyes squinted. "Right…" It appeared that she would have to be blunt. "I need to use the loo and I don't have any bottoms on at the moment, so I'd prefer you to leave for a moment."

The blond blushed slightly and nodded. "I'll come back when you're done."

He rose and left the room, taking his tea with him. Hermione scrambled from the bed as soon as the door shut. "Like hell you will," she muttered and locked the door with a spell.

A little less tense now that Malfoy was out of the room and the door was locked, she made her way into the bathroom to use the facilities and brush her teeth. She was about half way through a hot shower when she heard Draco calling through the door. "He just can't take a hint, can he?" she muttered. "Well he can just stand out in the hall for all I care!" And she continued with her shower, running her hands through her heavy hair to rinse out the shampoo. Her hair had always been a thing of frustration for her. It was so thick and unruly that she'd gotten a pixie haircut shortly after finishing school. (She'd gone back to complete her seventh year of school the year after defeating Lord Voldemort.) However it was growing out again now and was just past her shoulders. She would need to get it thinned again if she had any hope of maintaining a tame appearance.

At that moment, she heard Draco's voice a little louder, almost as if it were coming from just outside the bathroom door. What he was saying confirmed it. "I'll just wait out here, shall I? Would you like me to fetch you anything? Clothes perhaps?"

She grumbled a few choice words under her breath that she'd picked up from Ron. The prat was just not getting that she didn't want his company. However, he was correct in assuming that she hadn't brought clothes into the bathroom with her. Figuring that the blond ferret would stay on the other side of her door, she didn't think she'd need to. "Damnit all…" she muttered.

Finishing with her shower, Hermione stepped out and wrapped a large white fluffy towel firmly around herself before opening the bathroom door a couple of centimeters. Draco was seated back in the chair sipping tea nonchalantly. She found it curious that his pointer finger was held out away from the cup when he picked it up. Wasn't it taught to the upper-class that the pinky finger did that? She shook her head a little and pointed her wand out the door towards the corner of the room. "Accio day bag," she muttered and a medium sized blue cloth bag floated up and came zooming toward the witch past a surprised Draco Malfoy.

He followed the bag with his eyes which widened slightly upon spying a towel clad Hermione. "You could have asked," he commented.

Hermione rolled her eyes and stepped back into the bathroom, thankful that she'd mastered packing skills during hers, Ron's, and Harry's search for horcruxes. At the thought of Ron, the hole that had opened up in her chest last night after realizing that she had no one re-opened and she clutched at herself in an attempt to avoid flying apart.

Changing her thoughts back to the day bag, she thought about specific items she'd packed to get her mind off of the ginger haired asshole. She'd managed to fit all of her worldly possessions into the shoulder bag including the majority of her library, potions, clothing, and other necessities along with a few things that probably weren't necessities, but she thought she'd throw them in anyway. Not feeling the need to hurry, she dug around in the bag until her fingers met denim and cotton. She dressed in a favorite pair of old jeans and a three quarter sleeve plain dark red boat necked shirt. Only once she'd dried her hair and picked at her appearance to the point where there was literally nothing left to do, did she emerge from the bathroom with the hopes that Draco had left. She frowned when she saw that he was still sitting in the chair, only now a small appointment book was opened on his knee and he was looking over it.

"You know, usually a locked door means that company isn't wanted," Hermione commented as she walked into the room and stood before him with arms crossed.

"You didn't mean it," he said waving a hand nonchalantly, not even looking up from his appointment book.

Hermione's mouth dropped open. The nerve of him! "Who's to say I didn't mean it?" she demanded.

"Well… I believe _I_ just said it," he replied now looking up at her, a small smile on his face.

"Arrrgh!" she growled out as she clenched and unclenched her hands. "Maybe I should just put this plain and simple," she started, glaring at him and his knowing smile. "I don't want you in my room. I don't want to talk to you. And while I'm grateful for your assistance last night, I don't need any more help from you. Now would you please leave?" The last part was more of a demand than a question.

Draco gave her a calculating look, one eyebrow raised higher than the other. "I believe you," he said simply.

"What?" she asked confused.

"You really do want me to leave, however I'm not sure if it is me specifically you want to leave or if you would prefer no one to be with you. I have a feeling it's the first."

"Jesus Christ! Will you just leave?"

Draco stood, closing his appointment book as he did so. "Hermione," he addressed her in a calm soothing tone. "I realize that our past is not the best, but I can tell that you need someone to talk to. I'm offering my services because it's kind of what I do professionally now and your internal pain is blazing so brightly right now I'm surprised your not lit up like a beacon." Hermione stared at him, her mouth hanging slightly open in surprise. "I will leave you alone, but I beg you remember my offer, because the pain and rage your holding in will eventually snap and were I not trained to handle such a thing, I would be afraid to be on the receiving end when it does happen."

He moved toward her and placed a hand gently on her elbow. She didn't move, still too surprised at this new Draco Malfoy. "Just remember, I'm down in C2. Feel free to come down or send me a note and I'll meet you here."

And with that he left, closing the door to her room soundlessly. Hermione stared at the door for a full five minutes before her mind started working again. Was that really Draco Malfoy who'd just been talking to her? It had certainly looked like him, but it sure as hell hadn't sounded like the spoiled pureblood pratt she was used to. Of course he had said something about changing over the past seven years. But was it really possible to change so much? The new Draco Malfoy was nearly a complete 180 degree turn around from the old. Either he was a very good actor, or he had done some serious thinking and re-evaluating over the past few years.

Hermione moved to sit on the bed. It was at that moment that it occurred to her that she hadn't notified her boss that she wouldn't be coming in today. It was Friday and she figured she deserved a three-day weekend after what she'd just been through. Looking up at the top of the wardrobe that sat in the corner, she spied a familiar white and tan shape. "Jareth*," she gently coaxed the sleeping owl.

Crookshanks, the squash-faced large ball of orange fur who'd she'd gotten during her third year, had died from old age a couple years back and she'd decided that it was time to get her own owl. She'd chosen a handsome male barn owl and decided to name him Jareth after the antagonist in one of her favorite movies, _Labyrinth_. Said owl was having trouble waking up just now though, so she found a bag of owl treats in her day bag and pulled one out. "Jareth," she coaxed. "I'll give you a treat if you deliver my message to Karen," she said mentioning her boss at the Ministry in the newly developed 'Department for the Rights of Sentient Beings'.

The owl winked at her and stretched his wings leisurely before fluttering down onto the table that still had the tea service tray on it. He gobbled up the treat Hermione gave him and dipped his beak in some left over tea while Hermione wrote out a short message explaining to her boss that she wouldn't be in today. Jareth patiently waited while she tied it to his leg and pried open the grimy window.

After Jareth had gone, Hermione flopped backwards onto her bed. Her headache wasn't completely gone and she decided a good nap might be beneficial. It had been a trying morning; perhaps the afternoon would be better?

**o O o O o O o**

**A/N: **Alrighty then! So, this is my first Dramione fic, and I'm really hoping you guys will like it. I have read some D/H fics out there, but there's so many that I've hardly scratched the surface. So, I'm hoping this isn't too similar to anything out there already. I've got some plans for the story that I think will be kind of unique, but we'll see how it goes.

Cheers! And please review! I love reviews… I eat them for breakfast with toast. They're quite tasty!

*Jareth is the name of the Goblin King antagonist in the 1986 Jim Henson movie, _Labyrinth_. He is played by David Bowie whose lyrics I stole for the title to this chapter. I'm rather obsessed by Bowie/Jareth, as you'll be able to tell should you visit my profile page. I'd recommend checking out the movie if you've never seen it before if for no other reason than to laugh at the fact that the villain is all glittery and the monsters are Muppets!


	2. In The Meantime

**Chapter 2: In the meantime…**

A gentle breeze blew through the trees and sent fallen leaves scattering along the sidewalk. Children chasing a shaggy black and white dog came running around the corner and nearly collided into Draco Malfoy, but at the last second dodged and continued chasing the dog who had a bright red scarf in his mouth. Draco chuckled and continued walking along the sidewalk, pulling his long coat tighter and readjusting his black leather gloves. His old shoes made a dull clicking sound on the hard pavement as he moved along.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, Draco smiled. He loved autumn. The smells of the Earth as the seasons changed was something he was convinced should be bottled and sold. He would certainly purchase it. Of course, now that it was late fall, the weather was becoming colder and colder, and coats and gloves were no longer an option. This didn't bother Draco much though seeing as he preferred the colder months to the hot and steamy ones. There was just something about the beauty of the Earth as she slept.

He smiled as he turned the corner onto White Hall Street. His destination was on the right about four houses down. It was a squat, simple, mundane color of tan and looked to house only one person… two if you squeezed. He knocked on the door and waited. A scuffling sound could be heard inside as well as a low cursing and grumbling. After a moment, the door whipped open, revealing a short balding man in tan slacks and a dark blue sweater. "Draco!" he greeted with a large grin before pulling the blond man into a firm embrace.

"Don…" Draco greeted back with a similarly large grin and returning embrace. "It's been too long."

"That it has, that it has," Don pulled back. "Well, come on in! I just put on the tea. Watch out for Zoey though, she likes to weave around the ankles," he said in reference to a brown tabby who was indeed making her way towards Draco's ankles.

Draco stepped over the feline and made his way further into the small sparsely furnished sitting room. There was only two high-backed chairs, a small table, a long low bookshelf stuffed full of old tombs, and a small fireplace. A narrow doorway led from the sitting room to the kitchen and Draco could hear Don pulling together a tea tray to bring in once the water was hot enough. In the meantime, Draco slipped out of his coat and gloves, laying them over the arm of one chair, and sauntered over to the bookshelf to crouch down and take a look at the selection.

Don was an old client of his. The older wizard's family had played victim to the Death Eaters. Don's only child, a son, and his family had been killed for sport by the fiends and were currently buried in a small cemetery that Draco had visited often with his friend and client. A shuffling of feet announced Don's approach. "You've gotten some new ones I see?" Draco commented still looking at the tombs.

"Oh yes," Don replied proudly. "Found them at an estate sale and just couldn't resist!"

Don collected the works of Shakespeare and sought out early publications. His newest additions included a selection of sonnets published in the early seventeen hundreds and a stage version of _Macbeth_ from the late eighteen hundreds. The prize of the collection, however, was a first edition of _Much Ado About Nothing_ that was supposedly written in the Bard's own hand. Draco rose from his crouch and moved to sit across from Don in the chair he'd laid his coat and gloves in. "Earl Grey?" he asked.

"As always… lemon?"

"You know me too well," Draco smiled. He took the offered wedge and squeezed some of the juice in before simply dropping the bright yellow citrus into his cup. He leaned back in his chair, taking his tea with him, and sipped slowly at the hot drink. "Mmm… I have to say that you make some of the best Earl Grey I've ever tasted."

"Thank you," Don grinned, sipping at his own tea.

"So how've you been?"

"As well as can be expected what with the anniversary having just passed."

Draco glanced up to see a pained expression cross the man's face. "Don… what do I always tell you?"

The elder man held up a hand, "I know, I know… I couldn't have done anything."

"That's right. It's not your fault and there was nothing you could've done. Had you been there that night, you would most likely be buried next to them."

"I know… it's just always a bit difficult to think about, even seven years later."

"I expect it won't ever be easy to think about."

Don snorted mockingly into his tea. "No, I doubt it."

"I'm sorry I couldn't make it for the actual day. You know I would have gone with you."

"I know, and I understand that you had other things going on. I'll need to get used to visiting them by myself some day, right?"

"Perhaps, but you can always send me an owl if you need to."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Both men sipped at their tea then, content to sit and listen to the crackling fire and the gentle purring coming from Zoey who was curled up on the rug before the mantle. Draco always tried to visit Don around the time of year that his family died, but this year he'd had an appointment with another client that could not be postponed. "Did you put flowers out?" Draco asked.

Don nodded. "Pink zinnias… they were the girls' favorites," he replied referring to his two granddaughters who'd been killed in the attack.

Draco smiled. "I'm sure they would have liked that."

Don smiled as well. "I'd like so think too."

More silence filled the room. "Have you had any luck with work?" Draco asked.

"No, Henry just won't listen. He says that my columns are perfectly fine as they are, nothing more is needed." Don was a columnist for the _Daily Prophet_; he wrote a column on potions.

"And you've pitched the idea to expand how many times?"

"At least a dozen," Don groaned.

"Hmm… perhaps you could write a sample column? Henry would have to see the potential if he had an example before him."

"That's actually a great idea. Thank you, Draco."

Draco nodded. "You're welcome." He set his cup and saucer down on the table.

"More tea?"

"I really shouldn't. I've already had two cups this morning. Healer Trenton says I need to cut down on the caffeine."

Don chuckled. "You're getting older, boy."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Not that old yet. I'm only twenty-four! I'm still in my prime, old man."

"Ah, I may be old, but I have experience!"

"Is that what you call it?"

"You doubt me? Let's pull out the backgammon board and see which wins, experience or young impulsiveness?"

Draco laughed. "Alright, you're on, old man."

The rest of the afternoon was spent playing backgammon, a game that called on all of Draco's conniving and strategy. As it turned out though, experience did win out over young impulsiveness… if only by one game. Shortly after five o' clock, Draco bade Don farewell and promised to visit soon. He walked a couple blocks away from the house before apparating back to the Leaky Cauldron. It was still a little early for dinner, so he returned to his room to write about his visit with Don. While Don was no longer a client, Draco still liked to keep tabs on him and make sure things were on a progressive incline.

It was then that his thoughts turned to Granger. That morning had gone better than he'd thought. While it had been obvious that she hadn't wanted him there, she hadn't thrown a fit or snapped at him. She'd even allowed him to fix her tea. That had shown she was starting to trust him… even if only a little. Even when she'd been asking him to leave at the end, she didn't yell or scream. She merely stated her points in a calm, if somewhat frustrated, tone. It was promising. Hopefully she would realize that she needed his help before she snapped at someone.

**o O o O o O o**

"Oh, honey, are you sure you're gonna be okay? You know you can always come home, right?" Mrs. Granger, Hermione's mother, asked, a comforting tone in her voice.

"Yes, mum, I know. But staying in London is actually better anyway. I'm closer to my job at any rate."

"But can't you just do that poofy thing?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow critically. "It's called apparation, mum."

"Whatever it's called," she waved a hand nonchalantly. "Can't you do that if you stay with us?"

"Yes, I could, but things are just easier if I stay here," Hermione muttered not wanting to say that she felt that if she moved back in with her parents that Ron would win somehow. Moving back in with the parents was a last ditch move that desperate people made and Hermione was _not_ that desperate… yet. "I'll tell you what, mum, I'll visit soon okay?"

Mrs. Granger seemed to think this over then finally let out a sigh and nodded. "Alright, but you call if you need anything at all!"

"I will, mum."

"Oh, and one last thing, Hermione dear. Do you think you could actually call next time? Or visit? You know how unnerved your father is by these fire chats."

Hermione chuckled and nodded. "I will."

"Thank you, honey. You know he'd like to see you as well."

"I know. I'll talk to you later mum."

"Love you, darling."

"Love you too."

Hermione pulled her head out of the small fireplace in her room at the Leaky cauldron and stood on stiff knees. She sighed as she thought of the troubles she'd gone through to protect her parents from Voldemort and his Death Eaters. It had taken nearly a year to rehabilitate them from the memory charm she'd put on them. They'd been furious once they'd remembered her and there had been many discussions on trust afterwards. Now the memory was just a bad thought. Hermione's mother had forgiven her without too much hassle, but her father's trust had taken a bit longer to regain. As a result, her father was always a bit nervous around magical things… and regular things such as teapot whistles sometimes.

Heaving a sigh, she moved toward the small closet and pulled out her cloak, scarf, and pair of gloves. She needed to visit Gringotts and get some more money if she were to have enough to pay for a few days' rent and food. Hopefully she could find an apartment within the next few days. The Leaky Cauldron wasn't a bad place to stay, but it was a bit costly to live there for an extended period of time.

Ten minutes later found Hermione walking down a crowded Diagon Alley. It was one of the last semi-pleasant days of autumn and many a witch and wizard were taking advantage of it to get some shopping done. Her destination, a large white marble building, lay just ahead and she picked up her step to get out of the chill. Upon entering the prestigious bank, Hermione was drawn to the gleaming marble architecture, the same as every other time she walked in. The fantastic soaring heights were amazing to look upon, but she didn't get long to gaze until she was before a goblin clerk. "I'd like to make a withdrawal," she said pulling her vault key out from a small handbag.

The goblin examined the key momentarily before calling for a vault goblin to lead her. "Please take Mrs. Weasley to her vault, Brisbing," he ordered the other goblin.

Brisbing nodded and took the offered key before turning to lead Hermione away. She cringed a little at her married name and sighed. The hole threatened to open back up, but she forcefully shoved it back. Wordlessly, she followed the small goblin into the underground vault. In order to access her vault, Hermione had had to make several compromises with the goblins of Gringotts. None of them had been very happy about her breaking in to a vault during her Horcrux hunt with Harry and Ron. However the fact that the break-in did help to bring down Voldemort and the fact that she was now head of the Department for the Rights of Sentient Creatures and could pass laws in favor of the goblins more easily helped her to gain back some trust with the short, but fearsome creatures. Brisbing ushered her into a cart and soon they were speeding along a track that led to her vault. It wasn't very far, but in the short distance, the sharp turns and ups and downs made Hermione slightly nauseous. Usually she didn't have a problem with the roller coaster ride, but for some reason it didn't agree with her this afternoon. Wobbling slightly, she exited the cart once they'd stopped and followed Brisbing as he opened her vault for her. Gold galleons, silver sickles, and bronze knuts gleamed from inside, and she quickly pulled out her handbag and scooped a small fortune inside. She wasn't sure how long she'd be staying at the Leaky Cauldron, or how much she'd need for a down payment on an apartment, so she took a bit extra to be on the safe side.

Another ten minutes later she was walking back through the main entrance to Gringotts and out into the brisk November air. Her head swirled a bit more than before and she had to swallow forcefully to keep her stomach down. Perhaps this sudden illness was partially because of the fact she'd only had tea and a croissant today? That must be it, she decided. She just needed something to eat. However when she neared a café, the smell of the coffees, teas, and baked goods sent her head reeling and she quickly walked past. She needed to get back to the Leaky Cauldron, and now. At that moment she really didn't care about proper wizard protocol. She didn't care that it was rude to simply apparate in the middle of the street, but she did it anyway and was glad when she did because not five minutes later, she was kneeling in front of the loo tasting the croissant for the second time. She shook and shivered as she emptied her stomach and heaved until there was nothing left to come up. What was wrong with her? Maybe Malfoy had poisoned her tea that morning? It would be just like the little pratt… gain her trust then poison her. So much for trust…

She rose from her position on the tile floor and moved to the sink to washout her mouth. The cool water felt nice, and she ended up washing her face with the cool sweet liquid. A wave of lethargy stole over her and she swayed again, her vision honey combing slightly. She staggered out of the bathroom and somehow managed to make it to the bed before collapsing onto it in a heap. Sleep consumed her within seconds and it was difficult to tell whether it was from exhaustion or if she was losing consciousness to dizziness swirling about her head.

**o O o O o O o**

**A/N:** So there's the second chapter… a look at what our two characters are doing away from each other. I got some good responses from the first chapter and I'm hoping this one will ratchet things up another notch.

Please review, let me know what you think. It's always helpful to know what my readers think. :)

Thanks!

Ismira Daugéne

_Harry Potter_ (c) J.K. Rowling & Warner Brothers


	3. Not Poison

**Chapter 3: Not Poison**

Draco Malfoy had always been one to trust his instincts. However, even though his instincts were yelling at him to ignore the pounding on his door, he instead found himself stumbling forward half-asleep, glancing at the clock once (_Who the bloody hell pounds on a person's door at seven in the morning?_) before opening the wooden door to owlishly blink at an irate Hermione. He blinked a couple more times before it sank in that he should invite her in. Once he did, she marched in ten paces, turned on her heel and started berating him. He wasn't quite sure what she was yelling about, but it was obviously very upsetting to her considering the decibel at which her voice seemed to be fixed. Words such as _irresponsible, immature, dangerous, _ and _pratt_ caught his attention and he sat heavily on the end of his bed while she continued her tirade, hands on hips, eyes set in a death glare, and hair sticking out at odd angles.

He eyed the brunette witch in confusion. Nothing she was saying was making sense, though that might have been because his mind was still quite sleep-addled. She paused to take a long breath and Draco took the opportunity to hold up a hand and stop her. "Hang on, hang on…" he mumbled. "I'm sorry, but just what the bloody hell are you on about?"

Her visage grew darker and she clenched her fists. "Haven't you been listening at all? I'm talking about your stunt yesterday with the tea! What if I had gotten truly sick? What if I'd had to go to Saint Mungo's?"

"Saint Mungos? What…?"

"You poisoned my tea!"

Silence filled the room after her proclamation in which Draco sat and simply stared at her. _She's stark raving mad_, he decided. There was no other explanation. "Poison?" he asked, unwilling to believe what she was saying.

"You poisoned my tea! I was sick all day yesterday and ended up throwing-up in the afternoon. Are you happy with yourself?"

"Hermione, I can assure you that I did not poison you. I honestly don't know why you were sick yesterday."

She huffed and crossed her arms. "I don't believe you."

"Believe what you will," he shrugged. "But I didn't do anything to that tea. I drank it too, remember?"

Hermione glowered at him. "You fixed my cup. You could've done anything to it!"

"Yes, I slipped in some hemlock right in front of you!" he retorted.

She rolled her eyes, "I wouldn't put it past you…"

"Hermione, I don't know how to convince you, but I didn't have anything to do with your being sick yesterday. If you'd like to yell at me some more, feel free, but could we set it for a bit later? I'd like to sleep in a bit more."

"Argh!" she growled. "You haven't changed one bit! You're still just a vile, loathsome, evil, cockroach!"

With that, she turned and exited his room, slamming the door on the way out. Draco sat still on the bed for a moment, only then realizing that he'd been naked from the waist up the entire time she'd been ranting at him. Shrugging, he scooted back on the bed and slipped back under the covers to sleep for another hour or so.

**o O o O o O o**

Hermione grumbled and growled the entire way back to her room, earning her a disapproving look from an elderly wizard passing in the other direction. Draco had denied poisoning her, but her symptoms had started after drinking the tea. It had to be the culprit. She let out a frustrated growl as she entered her room and picked up her coat, scarf, and gloves. While she did feel somewhat better now, she was still quite woozy and a trip to Saint Mungo's might be prudent in case the idiot did put something actually harmful into her tea.

It took her only a handful of minutes to make her way down to the designated apparating area in the Leaky Cauldron then turn sharply and make herself magically appear in Saint Mungo's waiting room. She made her way to the front desk and found the sign that designated which floors treated what kind of injury and decided that _Floor Three: Potion and Plant Poisoning_ would be where she could find help. Following the signs, she made her way to the third floor check-in desk where she waited her turn behind an ancient witch with a nasty purple rash spread across her arms and face. After checking-in, it took another thirty minutes or so before a hassled looking healer in green robes emerged and called her name. "Hermione Weasley?"

Hermione stood and made her way forward. "Hermione? Is that really you?" the healer asked.

Hermione looked up and upon closer inspection found that the healer before her was none other than Padma Patil. "Padma, how nice to see you," she said, though she didn't really want a gossip like Padma knowing that she had been poisoned by Draco Malfoy. However it would likely take another thirty minutes before she could see someone else, so she decided to strike down her pride and go with it.

"Wow, I haven't seen you since… well… probably sixth year at Hogwarts. So you did marry Ron then? How are you guys?" she asked leading Hermione down the hall. "I'm sorry, stupid question considering where we are."

Hermione had to grin a little at that. "It's fine, I know what you meant. I've actually hit a bit of a rough patch right now."

"Oh, well lets see what we can do to make you feel better," Padma said before ushering her into a small examination room. "What's the problem now? My chart here says that you think you were poisoned?"

"Yes," Hermione sighed. "In my morning tea yesterday. I think it was just supposed to be a mean spirited joke, but I didn't feel well nearly all of yesterday and ended the day in the bathroom tasting lunch a second time." For some reason, she was hesitant to say who she thought poisoned her.

Padma grimaced. "Hmm… what were your symptoms exactly?"

"Dizziness, nausea, physically ill…"

The dark haired witch noted Hermione's observations down on her notepad and let out a sigh. "It's not much to go on. There's a lot of poisons that cause those symptoms. My guess is that since you're feeling better now, that you got most of it out when you threw-up, but I'm going to take a blood sample and a urine sample to run through the lab, okay?"

Hermione nodded and took the cup that Padma handed her for the urine sample. "There's a bathroom just down the hall to the left. When you're done, put the cover on the sample and put it in the little door in the wall then wait in the waiting room. I'm going to take the blood sample now so we can get to work right away."

Hermione held still while Padma drew a blood sample from the crook of her elbow. After a bandage had been applied, she went in search of the bathroom and found it easily enough. It was a bit awkward trying to catch her own urine in the small cup, but she managed and put the cover on before passing it through the small door in the wall that led to the lab.

It took another hour and a half before she was called back in by Padma who had her sit down on one of the two chairs before starting. "Alright, I've got good news and better news."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. "The good news is that you were never poisoned yesterday."

"But why…" Hermione started, but stopped when Padma held up a hand.

"The better news is that you're pregnant."

Hermione's eyes widened and her jaw dropped. "I'm… what?"

"There are brochures and books available that can give you more information on how to keep yourself and the baby healthy. I'm sure that even though this is a bit of a surprise, that Ron will be very happy!" she tried to reassure. "You're a smart witch, Hermione. I know you guys can get prepared for this. If you don't mind, I'd like to set you up with an appointment with an obstetrician as soon as possible. I'm guessing what you were feeling yesterday was morning sickness."

"But… it wasn't morning," Hermione objected stupidly.

Padma chuckled a little. "Morning sickness doesn't always happen in the morning. Sometimes it's in the morning, or afternoon, or night, or sometimes it's all day long."

"I… I need to sit down," Hermione mumbled.

"You _are_ sitting, Hermione," Padma said looking concerned now.

Hermione slumped against the back of the chair, her breathing coming in sharp gasps. "I – I can't breathe!" she gasped out.

"Hermione, listen to me," Padma said calmly, placing a hand on each of her shoulders and kneeling so she was eye level with the panicking woman.

Hermione couldn't hear her though and her vision started to tunnel. She sucked in breaths at a rapid rate and her heart was pounding in her ears. "Hermione!" Padma's voice called out to her, but it was the last thing she heard as darkness overwhelmed her.

**o O o O o O o**

The first thought Hermione had upon regaining consciousness was that she wasn't very comfortable. Whatever she was laying on was very hard and actually felt quite like the floor. It was at that point that she heard a male voice say, "She's coming around now."

"What happened?" she asked groggily.

"You fainted, Miss," the voice replied. "Have you had anything to eat or drink today?"

"No," Hermione replied shaking her head slightly, but stopped when that caused a wave of dizziness to wash over her.

"Well there's your problem," the voice continued. "Do you think you can sit up?"

Groaning slightly, Hermione tried sitting up, but ended up laying back down. "Too dizzy," she grumbled.

"Alright, that's fine. Healer Patil informed us that you are about eleven weeks pregnant. You probably just need some something to eat and drink, but I'd like to play it safe. We're gonna put you in a bed and hook up an IV line to get some fluids in you right away."

Hermione could only nod along. She truly felt horrible and couldn't object to anything seeing as even sitting up felt like too much at the moment. She still hadn't opened her eyes, but she could feel a couple of people gently shifting her onto a stretcher before magicking it up so that it floated smoothly along. A couple of minutes later, they again shifted her onto a bed. A pinching feeling in the back of her hand let her know that they'd inserted the IV. "There we go," the man patted her arm. "Right then, I'm going to make a few of my rounds now, but I'll be back in a while to check on you."

Hermione squinted open her eyes slightly to see the grey haired healer next to her. "Who are you?" she asked.

"Pardon me," he said as though just remembering that he'd never properly introduced himself. "I'm Healer Goodfellow. Now, I'll be back. You just rest."

Hermione nodded and closed her eyes again. It was obvious that she hadn't been out for very long. However her head still felt full of cotton and her throat was very dry. It was at that moment that she remembered the reason for her fainting spell. She was pregnant. Healer Gooodfellow had said so as well. What had he said? Eleven weeks? _Oh dear sweet lord…_ she thought to herself, thinking of the four martini's she had the other night. She'd just have to hope that no damage had been done. Her thoughts shifted to Ron again. It was his child. There was no other man that she'd been with, so there was no doubt, but she didn't think he'd really want to know. In fact, she was certain that he wouldn't be very happy about a child considering that that was the precise reason she'd left him. She wanted children; he did not. However, this thought brought up the question of how she'd gotten pregnant. They'd always used protection… unless… _Stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid! _ she berated herself. She couldn't remember exactly when… well… it was probably close to eleven weeks ago, but she remembered a night where they'd been so angry at each other. They'd been yelling and then suddenly they were kissing. Their rage had fueled their passion and she'd thought the next morning that things would be okay, but it turned out that it had been angry sex… that's all. And there had been no protection.

What was she going to do now? She knew she should tell Ron; he was the father after all, and she knew that despite Ron's feelings about having children, Mrs. Weasley would be absolutely delighted about another grandchild. Would having a child be able to pull her and Ron back together? She doubted it. He was always very adamant on the subject of children. She strongly suspected it had something to do with how many siblings he had. No… this wouldn't help their relationship at all. The divorce would still go through and she would be a single mom.

Hermione didn't realize she was crying until she took in a deep shuddering breath and it came back out as a choked sob. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks as she turned on her side and curled into a ball.

**o O o O o O o**

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," the nurse at the reception desk said, handing back his ID.

He gave her a smile as he took it back and placed it back in his wallet. Giving her a nod, he made his way down the hall at St. Mungos. Another former patient of his had recently had a child and she and her husband had asked that he stop by. He smiled as he made his way down the maternity ward. However he stopped a second later, his smile turning to a frown. He could hear someone crying… sobbing actually… just through the door ahead. Florence and Paul could wait a bit longer…

He moved slowly now to peer in the slightly open door. It wasn't quite open enough to see in so he pushed it a little and was completely surprised by the sight that met him. There, lying on the first bed was none other than Hermione Granger-Weasley, and she was crying her heart out. Draco had no doubt that she would not appreciate his intruding on such a vulnerable moment, but he really didn't care. Taking the initiative, he didn't say a word, but walked to her and gently placed a hand on her shaking back.

She inhaled in surprise and turned around to see who had touched her. Her face fell even more, which cut Draco to the quick, and she tried to push him away. "Go away, Malfoy," she muttered.

He ignored her and instead sat on the edge of the bed and gently rubbed her back. She didn't try to push him away again, but she did try to regain control of herself. Slowly, her sobs grew less frequent and she was left with small hiccoughs. "What are you doing here?" she asked, not turning to look at him.

"I could ask you the same," he replied. He sighed and after a moment continued. "I'm here to visit a friend. She and her husband just had a baby."

She nodded absently. "Great… you should go… see them I mean."

Draco shook his head slightly even though she couldn't see him. It was obvious she was holding things in so as not to appear so weak in front of him, and he wasn't going to have that because it was equally obvious that she needed someone right now and he highly doubted the ginger haired weasel would be that someone. So instead of leaving, he sat down on the edge of the bed and began to gently rub his hand over her back soothingly. She shuddered again, though he wasn't sure if it was from having this level of contact with him or because of cold, so he pulled the blanket from the end of the bed up and over her shoulders, his hand returned to rubbing her back with the blanket between them now. "Why are you here, Hermione?" he asked. He'd found that with difficult patients, it was sometimes better to be direct.

She sucked in an uneven breath and waited nearly a full minute before answering, "I came to see if you really did poison me."

"But they wouldn't put you in the maternity ward for poisoning."

"No," she agreed. He didn't say anything and waited. Patience was a virtue he'd been blessed with at birth. It seemed that he could wait for hours for what he wanted. Most times it made the other party nervous and they eventually cracked. It was only three minutes later that Hermione cracked. "I'm… I found out that I'm… pregnant." Her voice was small and very quiet. If Draco hadn't been listening for it, he probably wouldn't have heard her.

His hand paused in mid-rub for only a second before resuming its motion. "Ron?" he asked even though he knew the answer. Hermione nodded and he could feel her starting to shake again. She was losing the control she'd worked so hard for earlier. "This is the reason isn't it? That you and he are splitting?" Hermione didn't answer, but her shaking grew stronger and Draco realized that she was holding in her sobs, crying silently. Draco felt a strange feeling surge through him. Hermione was crying at the thought of Ron being her child's father. There was something seriously wrong if you were so saddened at something like that. Going off of instinct now, Draco repositioned himself on the bed, sitting with both legs stretched out on the starched sheets and with his back propped by the pillows against the head of the bed. Using his new leverage, he wrapped both arms around the shuddering form of the brunette woman beside him and shifted her so that she was curled up in his lap and his arms could easily cradle her. She didn't resist; it seemed that she'd stopped caring whom he was and instead was taking comfort from wherever she could get it. Another slash of that same strange emotion swept through him and this time he recognized it as possessiveness.

This utterly confused him. He had no right to feel possessive over Hermione Granger (he'd subconsciously dropped the Weasley from her last name). They'd never been friends; they'd barely even talked civilly to each other. So why was it that this possessive feeling was curled in the pit of his stomach? Draco looked down at the wild brown hair tucked against his chest and the possessiveness tightened. Whatever had caused it to stir, Draco find he didn't really mind. She needed his help right now, and that's exactly what he was going to give her. If she needed some comforting, he'd give her that too. Mind made up, Draco settled himself more comfortably against the pillows and pulled Hermione tighter against him.

**o O o O o O o**

**A/N:** Okay, so this took a super long time to write. Not even sure I like how it came out, but we'll go with it. This story wasn't going to be my next project, but it just might become it now, depending on the kind of reviews I get. If people want me to continue, please let me know. If you think it's too cliché and has been done before, also let me know.

Thanks,

Ismira Daugene

_Harry Potter_ (c) J.K. Rowling


End file.
